


Etiology

by whiskyandoldspice (Itsirtou)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Rimming, Season/Series 05, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:04:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itsirtou/pseuds/whiskyandoldspice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Dr. Sexy slams the door shut.  Dean can’t shake the feeling that everything has just inexplicably jumped the rails somehow.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Etiology

**Author's Note:**

> Etiology (n): The study of causes or origins.

“Son of a _bitch.”_

A sexy nurse walking by gives Dean a startled look. Sam trains his huge puppy eyes on her and smiles reassuringly, and she smiles at him back and moves on. Dr. Sexy is being paged over the intercom. Fucking _Dr. Sexy._

At least if he passes out, he’s surrounded by a bunch of hot doctors.

Sam is worrying at his lower lip, looking around the hospital, running his fingers through his hair. “What the hell does the Trickster want us to do?” he mutters, sticking his hands in the pockets of his coat and sounding pissed. Dean's a little pissed, too. _Tennis shoes._ “What’s gonna happen now?”

Dean rocks back on his heels and glances down the hall so that he doesn’t have to look Sam in the eyes. He kind of knows what’s coming next. He’s seen this episode.

It’s just that _Dr. Sexy, M.D._ is one of those shows that you can find on some channel at just about any time of day, like _Say Yes to the Dress_ or _Law and Order._ And he watches a lot of TV when they’re stuck in their room and Sam’s busy researching. So yeah, he’s seen this episode before, a couple times. It’s kind of a classic.

A hand closes firmly around his arm. 

“Doctor,” says the voice behind him, and Dean’s heart is suddenly pounding in his throat. It’s Dr. Sexy. The real Dr. Sexy, from the sound of the cowboy boots on the hospital’s linoleum floor (he’d recognize that sound fucking _anywhere_ ; he’d recognize it if he were dead). 

“Doctor,” Sam says politely when it’s obvious that Dean isn’t going to answer. “How can we help you?” His voice sounds very far away. 

“I’m afraid I need to borrow your colleague for a moment, Doctor,” Dr. Sexy answers. Dean’s really busy staring at Dr. Sexy’s stupid beautiful face but for a second, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sam’s eyes go foxlike and narrow. 

Dr. Sexy’s thumb starts rubbing little circles on the inside of his elbow, over the soft cotton of his lab coat. 

At this point he’s never going to make fun of Becky ever again for the way she acts around Sam. He actually thinks they could probably have a pretty decent bonding moment about this entire experience if Dean makes it out alive.

He looks at Sam a little frantically, who rolls his eyes at Dean gamely and shrugs, mouths, “I’ll look around,” as Dr. Sexy uses his grip on Dean to lead him away. Dean looks back, just once, and sees Sam staring after him with a blank expression on his face, hands shoved in the pockets of his lab coat, shoulders tight and tense, and then he’s being pushed into a dark consulting room.

Dr. Sexy slams the door shut. Dean can’t shake the feeling that everything has just inexplicably jumped the rails somehow.

“You know.” Dr. Sexy is abruptly in Dean’s personal space, eyes glittering, crowding Dean back against the wall next to the door. “You know what you’re doing to me, walking around this hospital, when I know what you’ve got on underneath.”

“I,” Dean says, and swallows with effort. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But, no. He does know, now, because he recognizes this dialogue. In the fourth season of _Dr. Sexy, M.D._ , Dr. Sexy had an affair with one of the visiting clinicians from the neighboring hospital. They’d hated each other at first sight and ended up having violent, torrid sex all over the hospital. The fans had hated her (according to the internet, not that Dean would know or whatever) and the show had cut her character after the season had ended. And apparently, Dean’s got the honor of playing that starring role right now: the sexy yet slutty visiting endocrinologist. He has the vague sense that the Trickster is probably trying to insult him.

Dr. Sexy cups the back of Dean’s neck, thumb stroking the soft skin over the racing pulse on his throat. He makes a really undignified little sound.

“You know.”

Before Dean can breathe, Dr. Sexy grabs his arm and turns him around, pins him, slammed face-first against the wall. The hand on his neck is keeping him in place, now, not just holding but gripping; Dr. Sexy’s other hand moves to his hip, oh _fuck_ , pushing his lab coat to the side and dipping below his pants, just barely stroking the red lace hidden beneath. He wasn’t wearing them earlier today, but it’s not like this entire day makes any fucking sense at all so a pair of panties magically appearing on Dean’s ass isn’t freaking him out as much as it probably should.

“You wore them.” His breath stirs the hair on the back of Dean’s neck. Dean closes his eyes.

Shit. He doesn’t know what to say. This scene is going way off track, nowhere near the script. He feels like the Trickster is being a little unfair.

For that matter, apparently the Trickster wants him to have sex with Dr. Sexy, the perverted little asshole. He wonders idly if the Trickster is watching. 

“I told you,” Dr. Sexy continues, oblivious, “that I wanted to fuck you while you wore them.” Clever fingers are smoothing over the lace covering Dean’s hip. 

“I—”

Dr. Sexy leans down to where Dean’s shoulder meets his neck and just _breathes_. “Thought about this all day,” he says. “Thought about your tight ass around my dick,” and Dean shudders. He realizes, as Dr. Sexy drags the heel of his hand hard over the budge of Dean’s cock in his scrubs, that he’s never going to be able to watch this show again without getting an erection.

He’s distantly aware that this entire situation has spun wildly out of control. The Trickster has to be behind what’s happening right now in this room, has to be, because this is one hundred percent fucking insane. Dean can’t even begin to fathom how he’s ended up in this situation. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, and he may be trapped inside some weird Trickster-created fantasy world but he’ll be god damned if he passes this up. “Yeah, okay,” and the words are barely out of his mouth before Dr. Sexy yanks his lab coat down his arms and then off, spins him back around, curls his hands around Dean’s biceps and crushes his mouth down over Dean’s own. The kiss is hard and wet, desperate, Dr. Sexy’s tongue in his mouth, fingers gripping Dean’s jaw.

Dean turns his face away to breathe and Dr. Sexy bites rough and painful down the line of his throat, sucking little marks into the skin, and fuck how is he going to explain this to Sam. Dr. Sexy’s fingers dip below the waistline of his jeans again, teasing at the elastic of the panties and the soft skin beneath. 

“Off,” he gasps, pushing at Dr. Sexy’s firm chest, because there are too many clothes, way too many fucking layers. “Off, off,” and when Dr. Sexy backs away for a moment, Dean grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it off, not bothering to be slow or seductive about it because he just wants it off, it’s stifling. He’s aware of Dr. Sexy’s gaze on his chest and it turns his fingers stupid, clumsy, as he fumbles with the ties of his scrubs. He feels ridiculous for a moment, naked except for the stupid panties, but then Dr. Sexy’s eyes go molten hot and he puts his hands on Dean’s shoulders and shoves. Taken off-guard he stumbles back, hits the examining table and catches himself.

Dr. Sexy goes slowly to his knees in front of Dean. Dean exhales unsteadily.

Fingers slide under the waistband of the panties, dragging them down his hips and then off, and the feel of the lace over his cock makes him thrust forward a little, clenching onto the sides of the table so that his knees don’t buckle. Hot wet mouth on his hipbone, teeth biting down to the point of pain, and Dean hisses, head thrown back. He’s not ready to beg, not yet, but he lets himself tangle a hand in Dr. Sexy’s hair, curls it around his fingers.

“C’mon,” he says, voice rough and wrecked, and that’s when the door opens.

For a second, Dean really doesn’t give a shit. This is a made-up TV world, and he’s getting his rocks off with his made-up TV crush, and Dean just could not give a rat’s ass what a made-up TV doctor thinks about him getting his dick sucked on an examining table in an empty consulting room with a pair of panties tangled around one ankle. And when the door doesn’t immediately close again—well, fuck it, whoever just walked in can stay and watch. It’ll be a party. Dean shifts his hips a little and lets out a sharp breath when his cock drags on the stubble of Dr. Sexy’s cheek.

“Doctor,” Dr. Sexy says, and Dean sighs noisily, impatient. The door closes.

Silence. Dean rolls his head to the side and the breath rushes out of him in a long, low moan when he meets Sam’s eyes, hungry and dark.

He can’t even say Sam’s name, acknowledge him at all, because the breath has frozen in his lungs but fuck, he’s still hard, and Sam can see it, see everything.

The decision is taken out of his hands when Dr. Sexy drags his tongue up the length of Dean's cock.

“Shit,” he gasps as Dr. Sexy’s mouth sucks on the head of his dick, and he clenches his fingers tight in Dr. Sexy’s hair, pulling a little, trying so hard to stay still, pinned under Sam’s hot gaze. Feels a little tendril of panic uncoil in his chest because this isn’t right, this isn’t what was supposed to happen, and he says, “Wait, _wait_ —”

“No.” Sam’s voice is low. The expression on his face is unreadable. “Keep going.”

Dean _keens_ , high-pitched and embarrassing, and then Dr. Sexy’s mouth is sliding down, til Dean’s in his throat, and he’s shaking and biting down on the pathetic sounds that want to escape. Sam’s still leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of him, eyes on Dean’s face, mouth pressed into a straight line. It feels like Dean’s skin is on fire, too hot and too tight under Sam’s scrutiny, and the air in the room is so heavy and thick that Dean can barely breathe. 

“A finger,” Sam says, and Dean has to close his eyes as Dr. Sexy rests a hand on the small of his back. “Work him open.” And then, to Dean, as if an afterthought, “You’ll want to get it wet first.”

Dr. Sexy pulls off his cock and Dean can’t help it, lets out a little pathetic noise as Dr. Sexy brings up his fingers to trace around Dean’s lips.

“Sweet mouth on you,” Dr. Sexy says, pressing down on the soft fullness of Dean’s lower lip, trailing along his teeth.

Dean looks over when Sam laughs. It isn’t a nice sound. “Cocksucker lips,” Sam agrees, dark little smile playing around the corners of his mouth. Dr. Sexy slips two fingers in between his lips, grazing his tongue, and Sam looks at him and says, “Suck, Dean.”

And because it’s Sam, he does, and wants this so bad that he can’t even feel embarrassed about the way he grinds his hips up a little helplessly as he sucks on Dr. Sexy’s fingers but keeps his eyes on Sam.

“Now,” Sam says. He’s pushed off the door and taken a few steps forward. Fingers slip out of Dean’s mouth and trail down his side, leaving a little wet trail on his skin, and then there’s a hand on the curve of his ass and a finger touching the twitching skin of his hole. 

He arches his back and bites his lip to keep the noise in when a finger presses up and then in, past the resisting muscle, stroking along the inside of his body.

“Sammy,” he says, a little desperately, feeling agitated and restless. He shifts his hips and groans at the little spark of pleasure. 

“More. Give him more.” Sam doesn’t take his eyes off Dean. “He’ll take it.”

And that makes him whine and clench around the invading finger, makes a jolt of white heat go down his spine, because Sam didn’t say, _he can take more_ or _he’ll be able to take it._ Just that he _would, _because Sam says so.__

__Dr. Sexy presses two more fingers in, all at once, and it burns, hurts, but his body is confused because he presses back anyway, trying to get more, trying to force the fingers deeper inside his body. His mouth is open, gasping, and Dr. Sexy presses his lips down on Dean’s and swallows his racing breaths._ _

__“Enough,” Sam says, and _oh_ , he sounds dangerous. “Enough. Get on your knees, Dean.”_ _

__When Dr. Sexy pulls his fingers out and steps back to give him room, Dean drops like a puppet whose strings have been cut, strength in his legs giving out. He barely feels the impact as he hits the floor, although he registers it distantly in the back of his mind, knows he’ll have bruised knees tomorrow. He mouths at the fabric of Dr. Sexy’s pants sloppily, feeling loose, drugged. He doesn’t wait for Sam to speak again but hooks his fingers in the top of Dr. Sexy’s scrubs and drags them down over his hips. No sense playing cute, it’s way past that point now, so he just takes Dr. Sexy’s cock in his mouth like he’s been wanting to for the last half hour and swallows around it until it’s in his throat, tasting salt and sweat._ _

__Then there’s a huge hand in his hair, stroking, and he moans around the flesh in his mouth, spit dribbling out past his lips onto his chin. The hand pauses on his neck, wraps around his throat, squeezing, holds him still. Dr. Sexy pulls out, head of his cock dragging on Dean’s tongue, and thrusts back in, and he shakes helplessly as Sam’s big hand holds him still while Dr. Sexy fucks his mouth, bruising the back of his throat. It’s Dr. Sexy’s cock in his mouth but Sam’s voice in his ears, saying _God, so hot like this, Dean, you love it, don’t you, yeah, open up a little wider for me, c’mon, you can take it deeper.__ _

__Chokes a little when Dr. Sexy comes hot and thick in his mouth, and when Dr. Sexy pulls back he gets one last shot on his lips, his cheek. He sinks back onto his heels when Sam lets go of his neck, feeling dazed and stupid._ _

__“Out,” Sam says. And for as much as Dean had been panting after Dr. Sexy, it’s only Sam that matters now, Sam’s voice, Sam’s hands, so it barely registers when the door opens and then shuts. It’s just the two of them, Dean kneeling at Sam’s feet. His cock is hard, skin flushed and hot._ _

__Sam’s quiet, now. The only sound in the room is their breathing. Dean reaches blindly up, manages to grab the exam room table with one hand and Sam’s lab coat with the other, and pulls himself up._ _

__The expression on Sam’s face is guarded and still. Dean feels like maybe they should talk, like maybe Dean needs to step up and be the responsible big brother and stop this train wreck before it goes any further and before Dean lets them both crash and burn. It’s just that—he _wants,_ so bad, and he’s never thought he’d be able to have this, never thought that this was something Sam wanted too. And he’s so hard, aching, and he can see the press of Sam’s hard dick in his pants. He wants to know what that hardness will feel like, what Sam’s face will look like as he presses inside Dean’s body, the noises Sam will make when he comes. So it may make him an irresponsible, selfish shit of an older brother, but he reaches forward and tangles his fingers in the front of Sam’s shirt, doesn’t push him back but pulls him forward, tilting his head up so that their lips meet._ _

__Sam’s mouth is still against his own, unmoving, breath coming fast and ragged. It’s not until Dean gets fed up with waiting and slips his tongue between Sam’s barely-parted lips that Sam finally lets out a groan and surges against him. He wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and tugs until they’re flush against each other, holding him so hard that Dean almost can’t breathe, kissing him deep and filthy and hot._ _

__He gasps into Sam’s mouth as Sam rolls his hips against Dean’s and he has to break away so he can breathe. Sam bites hard right over one of the marks that Dr. Sexy left on his neck, setting in his teeth and worrying cruelly at the sensitive skin._ _

__He can’t catch his breath. They’re going to do this, right here, right now. It’s all he can do not to beg._ _

__“Do you,” he says, and breaks off as Sam presses the pads of his fingers against Dean’s hole, just barely, with light teasing pressure. “Do you—do you have anything, oh shit, Sam—” And it’s a fucking doctor’s office, for Christ’s sake, there’s probably some kind of lubricant in the cabinet just two feet away, but when Dean tries to move to look Sam just growls, breath hot on Dean’s neck, pulls him back with hot grabby hands. “Dude, come on, let me get something.”_ _

__Sam just turns him around and bends him over the table instead. Dean would complain about the way everyone seems to feel like manhandling him today except Sam’s trailing his tongue down Dean’s back and then licking into Dean’s ass. Dean folds his elbows in front of him on the table and buries his head against his forearms, breath coming in short pants, little whines on the end of each one._ _

__“Didn’t—know you had it in you, Sammy,” he manages, and Sam huffs out a little laugh against his skin and screws his tongue into Dean’s hole. He palms the flesh of Dean’s ass in his huge hands, pulls his cheeks apart further, and Dean can’t stop gasping over and over, can’t stop shuddering, Sam’s hot clever tongue in his ass. His hips rock back into Sam’s grip. Sam’s fucking losing it, making low growly noises as he eats Dean out, fingers clutching Dean’s ass so hard that Dean knows there will be dark bruises tomorrow._ _

__His cock jerks at the thought and oh fuck, he’s going to come; it's racing up his spine like lightning._ _

__“Stop,” he gasps. “S-stop, Sam. Christ.”_ _

__Sam pulls away immediately, and Dean’s hole clenches, feels achingly empty. Dean pushes himself up onto his hands and looks behind him. Sam’s face is open, worried, and his mouth is red and wet with spit._ _

__Dean should say something, now, beg, but he can’t find words for it so instead he drops his head back onto the exam table, plastic cool against his sweating forehead, and shoves two fingers inside himself, artlessly, desperate. Sam licked him loose and open so his fingers slide in easy. It’s an awkward angle, doesn’t feel as good, but it’s worth it when he hears Sam let out a punched breath behind him._ _

__Sam presses up behind him, finally, grabs Dean’s hand and moves it away, twisting their fingers together. “Dean,” he says, hoarse. He presses his forehead against Dean’s upper back, trembling; they both are. Maybe it's stupid that they're so tentative and unsure _now_ , but when Dr. Sexy was in the room with them it seemed—not real, somehow, like it was still a show, like they were playing a role. Now it’s just the two of them, everything else stripped away, and they can’t pretend this is anything but what it really is._ _

__His mouth drops open when Sam sets his hands on Dean’s hips and his cock pushes in, slow relentless pressure, sliding up and into him in one smooth motion. He’s so on edge, kept on the brink for too long, that when Sam bottoms out inside him, Dean grits his teeth and comes, eyes clenched shut, sharp edge of pain as he clenches uselessly around Sam’s huge cock._ _

__“ _God_ , Dean,” Sam says. His hips thrust forward, hard, and Dean cries out as Sam’s dick presses against his prostate, pleasure so sharp it hurts. Little shivers go through him every time Sam pulls out and then slams back in. He can’t get hard again, it’s too soon, but the little breathy grunts that Sam’s making against Dean’s skin leave him weak with want. He tightens again around Sam, wanting to feel that little jolt of pain-pleasure dance its way up his spine._ _

__“Oh,” Sam says, and he sounds awed. He wraps Dean tight in his arms and slams in once, twice, and then he’s crying out, sound muffled against Dean’s flesh, as he comes, hot and deep inside Dean’s body._ _

__Sam collapses forward onto Dean’s back, pressing him onto the table, and it’s kind of uncomfortable but he doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want Sam to move. Wants to keep Sam inside him for a little while longer. He can feel little trembles run through his brother’s body._ _

__“Think that’s what the Trickster was expecting?” Dean says, just because he wants to make Sam laugh._ _

__He feels Sam smile against his shoulder, knows it’s his favorite what-an-asshole smile._ _

__“We’ll have to send him something nice,” Sam replies after a moment, and his voice is soft. He trails tickling fingers down Dean’s side, laughing a little when Dean squirms._ _

__“Sam,” Dean says. “Sammy, we’re—” He stops, because he’s not sure how to continue. This entire bizarre afternoon, this—thing between them, rising up so suddenly, has left him feeling adrift. He's not even sure what he's asking. They’re—what, exactly? Okay?_ _

__Brothers?_ _

__Sam hums thoughtfully. He pulls out of Dean, carefully, and stands up, helps Dean straighten too with a gentle hand on his lower back. Sam presses a soft little kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth._ _

__“Yeah,” he says. “We are.”_ _

__And then all the sudden they're popped fully-clothed into a some foreign fucking game show because the Trickster is a smug little afterglow-ruining shithead who probably took some sadistic pleasure in ruining the truly sweet moment that he and Sam just shared, but fuck it. He'll put up with whatever the Trickster wants to throw their way, today, because he's got this, he's got Sam._ _

__He tells this to Sam, and even though his brother is too busy gasping from the truly nasty knock in the cluster that he just took, Dean's pretty sure Sam feels the same._ _


End file.
